Two-year-old Henry is obsessed with little things. The smaller the better. When we are out in the world he fills his pockets with tiny pinecones and pebbles, seeds and buds. His favorite foods are small ones, raisins and beans that can be manipulated as they are eaten. Many of the favorite toys are tiny, too. A recent exchange at the doctor's office:
The doctor had given him a token to put in the machine for a prize, and he chose a bouncy ball. (Never mind that the doctor shouldn't have given him the token at all, since he's not yet three and has a tendency to put tiny things in his mouth...) Out popped a red ball colored like a basketball. So excited! He threw it and threw it while I was checking out, eventually throwing it somewhere he couldn't follow it: into the office of another doctor, who was on a phone call. I dragged him away from the doctor's office door, and the "mean" nurse (another whole story there) gave him one of the plastic frogs that are approved for the under-threes.
H: Want boun-see ball.
Me: We have balls at home, Hon.
H: Want red boun-see ball.
Me: We'll get a ball at home, Sweet Sweet.
H: (More plaintive) Want red boun-see ball wif stripes (repeat ad finitum).
Me: Let's just get to the car.
"Tiny" and "little" are major parts of his vocabulary, and when he doesn't get the small object that he wants, he just adds more adjectives. Today:
H: Herry want ring.
Me: No, Honey, why don't we play with the cars?
H: Nooo. Herry want gold ring.
H: Herry want tiny gold ring.